Reading: John 20:19-31

On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nailmarks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”
Now a week later his disciples were again inside and Thomas was with them. Jesus came, although the doors were locked, and stood in their midst and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands, and bring your hand and put it into my side, and do not be unbelieving, but believe.”

Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

Now, Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book. But these are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in his name.

How familiar does this scene feel to us right now?!  “The doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear…”  And then, “…a week later his disciples were again inside…the doors were locked…” I’ve lost track of how many days of sheltering in place we’ve completed now, but it seems like a very long time.  I hope that it isn’t just fear that’s keeping us inside as it was for the disciples.  I hope that there is also a large portion of love, care and compassion for each other that is holding us within the safety of our homes.  We who are healthy (and I pray you all are) are staying home to protect not just ourselves but most especially those who are most vulnerable among us – the elderly, the sick, those whose immune systems are compromised. Our sheltering in place is the most powerful communal act of love that the world has seen, certainly in my lifetime and perhaps in recorded history. And that alone is a Lent and Easter miracle that none of us could ever have imagined or asked for!

For the disciples, Jesus showed up in spite of the lockdown and wished them peace.  And breathed the Holy Spirit into them.  What a miracle!  We hope that if we’d been there, we’d have received that gift with open hearts and much joy.  It seems, though, that the disciples didn’t respond that way.  After all, a week later they were still frozen in fear behind locked doors!  Is it any wonder that Thomas didn’t believe what they said about Jesus’ visit?  They were lousy witnesses!  It wasn’t Jesus that Thomas didn’t believe in. Thomas doubted those fearful, stuck disciples who didn’t seem the least bit transformed by Jesus’ arrival. And it was only Thomas who responded to Jesus’ second visit with the most powerful and heartfelt profession of faith: “My Lord and my God!” Yes, Thomas believed because he had seen, but the other disciples had seen, too, and it wasn’t enough to move them beyond their fear into the work for which Jesus had tried to prepare them for three years. Thomas didn’t just see their beloved rabbi whom they thought dead and now had come to life. He saw the deeper reality of Jesus, the Christ. And spoke it out loud.  I’ve long thought that poor Thomas has gotten a bad rap for all these thousands of years being called “Doubting.”

So here we are, in 2020, on lockdown just as were the disciples. Are we able to see through and beyond our fear and impatience to the greater Divine Reality in whose presence we are basking, even now? If we aren’t, how can we open our eyes and our hearts and move from doubt to faith?  If we are able, are we allowing ourselves to be transformed by it? Are we credible and persuasive witnesses who can help others to believe even when they aren’t able to see?  Can people believe by our lives that they are forgiven, and loved, and filled with God’s Spirit?  It might seem a bit challenging to respond to the call to be witnesses when we are quarantined. However, our presence goes well beyond the physical.  Think about what you choose to post on Facebook or Instagram; what kind of emails and text messages you send on to others; the content of your conversations in phone or video calls.  Consider how you are praying in these times.  Each of our actions and attitudes have ripple effects we’ll never know about, but they are part of the legacy we leave in our wake.

This very strange and surreal time that we’re living in feels quite a bit like the world of Jesus’ disciples after his death and resurrection. Let’s learn from Thomas and open our eyes and see and recognize Jesus’ presence with us in the midst of it all. Let’s have the courage to be open to the transformation that is surely being offered and let’s speak it out loud however we can to encourage one another and ourselves as we move through our fears and into a brand new future filled with hope.

“The call to holiness requires a “firm and passionate” defense of the innocent unborn. Equally sacred are the lives of the poor, those already born, the destitute, the abandoned and the underprivileged, the vulnerable infirm and the elderly exposed to covert euthanasia, the victims of human trafficking, new forms of slavery, and every form of rejection.”
                                                                   
Pope Francis in Gaudete et Exsultate

For me, pro-life means far more than anti-abortion.  I’d like to see pro-life efforts extended to protest the Death Penalty.  I’d like to see support for mothers who deliver babies at term, then keep weekly vigils for them, “The Disappeared” of Central and South America.

Could we re-direct some pro-life efforts to help children wounded by war, gun violence, drive-by shootings, and terrorist attacks?

Malnourished mothers whose empty breasts are unable to feed their babies, people everywhere who are unable to provide adequate nourishment for their families because of unemployment, poverty, drought, flooding, crop failure, and other loss of agricultural land caused by climate change, need our help.

Did you see the picture of the father with his little daughter, drowned in a river while trying to cross into the U.S.?  Their reality, and that of all immigrants, especially at the U.S. southern border is death-dealing, certainly a pro-life issue.

There is life, and there is life. . . or is there?  Where are the advocates for our fellow human beings in these wretched situations?  Are they organized?

True respect for life, all life, true pro-life supporters, would advocate against all of these wretched conditions, and more.

A credible pro-life stance would not be pro-birth only; pro some life, not all, but pro-life for all the members of our one human family; the family of God.”

In this holy season remember that “God became one of us—all of us.”

“Grateful-Grateful—Gratefulness—is flowing from my heart.”  The refrain the gospel choir frequently sings in my nearby African-American parish underscores my remembrances and narratives about a fall that necessitated a recent trip to the ER.  My feet somehow entangled themselves in a neighborhood grocery cart.  I fell backward, my head bouncing once with a sickening, terrifying thud on the parking lot, my left elbow absorbing part of the impact.

Immediately folks of all ages, genders and ethnicities rushed to my assistance, retrieving my purse and two small bags; offering help in getting me upright, a chair inside the store, a glass of water, a bag of ice for the knot on the back of my head.  Their empathy palpably cushioned my distress.

Dismissing their repeated offers to call for an ambulance, I phoned Sr. `Mary Ann Culotta.  She immediately changed her plans and drove me to the ER.  The medical team kindly tended my bruises and, within an hour, tendered the good news: a scalp contusion (bruise), not a brain concussion.  Sr. Ceal Warner retrieved my car.  What an unexpected but gratefully received conclusion to a day that began with our leisurely morning in St. Bernard civil parish. While driving to swamp-surrounded Shell Beach I shared my original EMD congregation’s 60+ year history of ministry in three parishes, my current monthly faith formation sessions with a small group there, and the availability of a lovely home for private retreats.

Mary Ann told of falling outside a bank in San Francisco when she was a graduate student several decades back.  She said, “I felt like I was invisible.  Not one person offered to help me.”  How vastly different my experience!  My white hair was surely not the crucial factor in our disparate experiences.  I’m inclined to credit southern hospitality, New Orleanians’ innate religiosity, and my nearby Dominican sisters, for the redemption I was granted.  What a gift to be able to name and sing about the falls into grace that uphold each of us through our daily ups and downs.